Page 74 of Old Girls Behaving Badly

‘That sounds fun,’ Dorothy said, but she already knew she’d find an excuse to duck out of it. Gina and Erik didn’t need her playing gooseberry. She decided not to say a word, though. She had a feeling that Gina might run a mile if pushed too hard and too fast. Nature had to take its course, nice and gently.

‘Have you decided to go on the cruise with Yvonne?’ Gina asked her as she sank back down onto the lounger.

‘I have. I phoned her yesterday to confirm. Do you know, for the first time in ages I feel a sense of adventure again. I know I’m an old lady and some things are past me now, but there’s some life in me yet and I feel open to some new experiences. Do you feel like that too, Gina?’

‘Um, a bit,’ she said.

‘Because there was something I wanted to ask you. There is something I’ve wanted to do all my life and for some reason I’ve never got around to it. I don’t want to ask Miles or Sophie to go with me because they’d fuss and besides, neither of them are keen on heights.’

Dorothy glanced across at Gina who looked alarmed.

‘It’s not as bad as it sounds. Perhaps you could look it up online for me?’

32

GINA

Tranquillity was the word that sprung to my mind as I took in the scene below me. The countryside was so beautiful from up here and apart from the occasional sound of the burner it was peaceful too. Half an hour into our flight I’d finally loosened my grip on the edge and decided that I was up here now and should just enjoy the experience. Dorothy was sitting across the basket from me sipping from a glass of champagne, her face was a picture of happiness.

‘Is it how you imagined it would be, your first flight in a hot-air balloon?’

‘It’s wonderful,’ Dorothy said. ‘Even better than I expected.’

I had to admit I was thoroughly enjoying myself now, although I wasn’t keen when Dorothy first suggested it. I loved watching balloons flying over our house in the summer months, but never imagined I’d have the guts to go up in one. After a serious talking-to from Dorothy and then myself, I had made the decision that I needed to challenge myself more. Certainly the week in Norfolk had proved that I had more gumption than I thought. It really is something when an eighty-nine-year-old woman has to talk you into doing something adventurous.

I leaned my elbows on the edge of the basket now and watched the villages go past far below me. It was a beautifully clear day and we’d set off from a field outside Canterbury just after dawn. When choosing her flight, Dorothy had said, what would be better than flying over the Garden of England. Looking down now, I could only agree with her.

Our pilot, Amanda, had taken us through a safety briefing, shown us around the balloon and basket, poured us champagne and offered us a plate of lovely canapés, then left us to watch in wonder at the world below us.

‘We should do more things like this,’ Dorothy said.

‘More gentle, sedate things?’ I asked.

‘Well, more experiences all round. Perhaps bungee jumping or paragliding?’ Dorothy said with a glint in her eye. Amanda chuckled beside me. She’d seen me gripping onto the edge of the basket as if my life depended on it as we first took off. She’d be surprised at me doing anything more fast-paced than walking, I would imagine.

‘You can do whatever you like,’ I said. ‘I’ll drive you and wait in the car for you to come back down to earth.’

Dorothy laughed and then sighed deeply in the most contented and relaxed way. She then raised her glass.

‘Here’s to you, Gina. Before you arrived at my house that day, I had nothing to look forward to and now everything is completely different. I feel as if the whole world is open and available to me, and you have given me that.’

I felt a little choked all of a sudden and swallowed down a lump in my throat.

‘And do you know what else? I think you’re on your way too,’ she said.

Later, back in the boathouse, I opened the doors out onto the balcony and took a cup of coffee with me to the little table in the corner. I realised that from here, on the far edge, I could see into Erik’s garden and to where he was stretched out on his lounger with a book and what looked like a glass of wine. I moved away, keen for him not to see me watching him and pulled a chair over to the other side, then I settled myself down and watched the boats sailing past on the river.

I needed to make sense of the life that I was living now and try to claim it as my own, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt very much as if I had stepped into someone else’s life, thrown on their clothes and climbed into their bed. I knew it would take time.

I had a sudden urge to record what I was doing and thought I might buy a journal and keep one like I used to do when I worked with my mother. Then I thought about Juliet and her voice recordings and wondered if that might be a better way to do it. After all, I used to do much the same at work. Tentatively I picked up my phone and opened the voice memo app. I had no idea what to say and considered turning it off again, but then changed my mind and pressed record.

‘I am on the balcony of my new home. It’s a boathouse on the Thames at Hampton and I can see Ash Island from where I sit. It’s September now and those hot and endless summer days are gone. I long for crisp autumn mornings where the sunlight tones itself down to a pale amber.’

I pressed pause on my recording for a moment and thought about what I really wanted to say. I was talking, but what was I really saying? What was I doing? What was my role now?

I’d thought I was no longer needed. I’d been the centre of my children’s existence, but they had grown up and even my granddaughters, Lou and Meg, didn’t need me any more. They loved me, loved seeing me, but they didn’t need me.

Douglas had once told me, many years ago and admittedly postcoital, that he’d die rather than lose me. But there he was living in his flat in Maidenhead, very much without me, and the last time I’d seen him he was still breathing.